


as long as I'm living (my baby you'll be)

by cedarwoods



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Root is Alive, set from 3x23 to post 5x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarwoods/pseuds/cedarwoods
Summary: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Update: My lovely, talented friend Maureen beautifully illustrated this fic. Please check out her work on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MarinaVermilion/status/836221999546519553) and/or [Tumblr](http://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/post/157779666941/inspired-by-ariyah-v-s-brilliant-work). Thank you so much Maureen, for all your contributions to the fandom and for encouraging me to continue writing :')

Root swayed slightly in her chair, wincing as Shaw plunged the forceps sharply into her injured left arm. In the dim light of their motel room, she could perceive the fury simmering beneath Shaw’s usually cool demeanour, raw and all-consuming and ready to erupt – though Root wasn’t yet entirely sure whether it was directed towards her or Samaritan or both of them. 

“That was stupid,” Shaw huffed as she removed bullet shards from Root’s wound. 

“What, getting shot as we were fleeing?” 

“Well that too, but I meant waltzing into a heavily guarded Samaritan fortress without backup. What the _hell_ were you thinking?” 

“I did it for the mission,” Root said softly, echoing Shaw’s words from earlier in the night. 

There was a beat of silence. Then, “You don’t have to do everything alone.” 

Root gazed fondly at Shaw for a moment as the latter stitched the wound. Warmth rushed through her veins as she remembered how Shaw had come to her rescue like a knight in shining armour. Root hadn’t had anyone to look out for her for the majority of her life. Now she was fortunate enough to have the Machine and Shaw. For the first time, she felt like she starting to belong to something: a resistance to save the world, a cause that was greater than herself, a family of broken ex-assassins and their dog… 

Fate, however, was cruel. 

“We’re going to have part ways soon, Sameen,” Root admitted. “All of us will be alone.” 

“What?” Shaw asked sharply, peering at Root. 

Root sighed. The mere thought of the dangerous uncertainty of the future exhausted her. “We have to assume new identities in the morning. Those servers are meant to hide us from Samaritan’s prying eyes.” 

Shaw looked away and said nothing, but there were traces of consternation on her face. She finished wrapping a bandage around Root’s arm and stepped into the bathroom to wash her hands and sterilize her tools. 

“Thanks,” Root said over the running water. She poured herself a glass of Shaw’s emergency bourbon and quickly downed it. 

She stood and turned when the bathroom tap was shut. “Want some?” she asked Shaw, holding up the bottle. Shaw took a step closer. Root bit her lip at the feral expression on her face, and she slowly placed the bottle back on the table, waiting. Shaw pounced then, grabbing fistfuls of Root’s tank top and slamming her against the wall. Their lips crashed together, and Shaw, not wasting a single moment, began to yank their clothes off. 

“I just figured,” she panted between nips and kisses to Root’s neck, “that if this is our last night together,” she suckled at a tendon, causing Root to gasp, “we should make the most of it.” 

“You read my mind,” Root breathed. She threw her head back and surrendered herself entirely to Shaw, hoping to forget her burdens for a while and revel in the chaos and destruction of their passion. Shaw would be the death of her, she thought, and she’d much rather die at her hands than Samaritan’s. 

They lay side by side a couple of hours later, sweaty and breathless, the air around them cloying and thick. The ceiling would soon crumble; the world would soon implode. But Root first wanted to commit to memory every detail of what they had just done. The feel of Shaw’s searing skin against hers. Shaw’s hot breath in the conch of her ear. The open-mouthed kisses that Shaw had trailed down Root’s body. Shaw’s head buried between Root’s legs. The litany of curses that had spewed involuntarily from her mouth. The way they had said each other’s names like a prayer. The way Root had shuddered as she hit her climax, clutching Shaw’s hair, before flipping Shaw over. 

“Will we ever see each other again?” Shaw asked quietly. 

Root briefly closed her eyes. She had wanted to avoid this conversation, but the doomsday clock was ticking, and they were almost out of time. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she whispered honestly. 

She could see Shaw staring at her and felt oddly vulnerable. She was already lying bare before her, yet she thought Shaw was X-raying her, peeling past her every layer and examining her soul. 

“Keep yourself alive,” Shaw said. 

Root gazed at her. She nodded minutely and murmured, “You too.” Sorrow was bleeding onto her face. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to conceal it, she tugged the blankets over their bodies and sidled to the edge of the bed, keeping a respectful distance between herself and Shaw. “Get some sleep,” she said. It was 3:26am, after all. “Think we’re going to need it.” 

Shaw opened and closed her mouth, as though searching for the words to reply but deciding against it. She obediently shut her eyes and fell into a deep slumber. 

Root watched the rise and fall of Shaw’s chest. She longed to snuggle against her and run her hand back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over Shaw’s heart, listening to its steady, reassuring thudding. But she did not dare touch her. Art was not meant to be touched, only admired from a distance. She whispered (almost inaudibly), “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” 

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but it felt like mere minutes later that the Machine was urging her to arise. She shook Shaw awake, relaying Her instructions. They hastily dressed in silence and departed. 

In the many lonely months that followed, Root sought comfort in her memories of the time she’d spent with Shaw in that motel room. But some nights…some nights, she was haunted by the forlorn look on Shaw’s face as they stared at each other across the sidewalk. 

She began to wonder if Shaw, perhaps, loved her too. 

*

She found herself in a seedy bar the night after her battle with Martine Rousseau, staring into the scotch that she had been sipping for the past ten minutes. It was a camera-free zone, but she was acutely aware that Samaritan could easily spy on her through the other patrons’ cellphones. She tried to maintain a low profile – head bowed, hair partially covering her face – but could nonetheless sense that a few men were leering at her. She was certain that if they propositioned her, she would ultimately have no choice but to tase them, which would immediately give her away. 

She was contemplating leaving when the door suddenly opened, filling the bar with a sobering blast of cold autumn air. Her eyes locked with the newcomer’s. 

_Of course,_ Root thought with a small smile. 

Shaw glanced across the bar. Noticing the ogling men, she pursed her lips, strode toward Root and kissed her neck. She smirked as the men scowled and turned away, then murmured in Root’s good ear, “You’re a hard woman to find.” 

Root suppressed a shiver at the unintentionally seductive quality of Shaw’s voice. “You were looking for me?” she asked. 

Shaw slipped into the stool next to Root’s and ordered a pint of beer. “You could have called, you know. After you got away from the blond bitch,” she said evasively. 

“It might not have been safe for you–” 

“Don’t make excuses,” Shaw snapped. “It’s been over 24 hours now. I could’ve at least looked at that arm of yours,” she nodded at Root’s sling, “instead of whatever incompetent intern you saw.” 

“I did it myself, actually,” Root admitted. 

Shaw sighed and took another long swig of her beer. “Come back to my place,” she said quietly. “We’ll talk there.” 

“What, you’re not going to buy a girl a drink first?” Root teased. 

“Please. We both know you’re a lightweight. You’ve already had enough.” Shaw stood and threw some bills on the counter. “Come on,” she said, tugging Root’s wrist. “Let’s get out of here.” 

They walked briskly, hugging the walls and adhering strictly to the shadow map. Shaw continued to firmly clutch Root’s wrist, as though (quite justly) concerned that she would vanish like smoke. 

“No heists planned for tonight then?” 

“Huh?” Shaw said distractedly. “Oh, uh, not tonight, no.” 

“…I see.” It would probably have been responsible to reprimand Shaw for lying and threatening her cover identity, but Root couldn’t help but feel touched that Shaw was prioritizing her over her adrenaline-pumping night job. 

When they walked through “Sameen Gray’s” apartment door, Shaw immediately took off Root’s sling and jacket and began unbuttoning her shirt. 

“Someone’s eager,” Root said, waggling her eyebrows. 

Shaw rolled her eyes, then tsked as she examined Root’s stitches. “God, this is awful.” She snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves. “Would’ve left a hell of a disfiguring scar.” 

“I like my scars. They bring out my eyes,” Root said with a tight smile. She hissed slightly as Shaw plucked out one of her stitches. “Seems like this is becoming a pattern, huh? This whole ‘me getting shot and then sitting topless in front of you while you patch me up’ thing?” 

“Your all-seeing god needs to take better care of you,” Shaw grumbled. “This shouldn’t _be_ a pattern. You’re starting to look like a rag doll.” 

“She…doesn’t talk much anymore,” Root confessed. “All She can do is send me coded messages about my identity and mission of the day.” 

“So that’s why you’ve been Eeyoring lately, huh?” Shaw’s mouth formed a severe slash at that. “Well She can’t expect you to save the world yourself. If She doesn’t give you some goddamn help, you’re going to die.” 

“I know,” Root said softly. 

“Huh?” Shaw applied the last new stitch and was now looking at Root, taken aback at how easily the hacker had agreed with her. 

“I know, Sameen.” If Root was being honest with herself, she had known, deep down, that she would eventually die for the Machine ever since she had become the analog interface. 

Shaw’s brows knit together as she pulled off her gloves and crossed her arms, staring at the floor in thought. “You don’t have to be the cost of this war.” 

_Yes I do,_ Root thought. “She chose me –”

“You’re not some sacrificial lamb!” Shaw interrupted sharply. The words seemed to reverberate through the apartment, but it was soon followed by a tense silence as the women stared at each other. “If the Machine is a god,” Shaw muttered, “then you’re the prophet.” She sighed. “Look. My parents were Muslim. I never much bought into their beliefs, but according to them, the prophet Muhammad didn’t die until his mission was complete. His death was from natural causes. So,” she said imperiously, “you _can’t_ die until this AI shitfest is over. That’s your mission.” 

It was an overly optimistic assessment, and they both knew it. But somehow, it was exactly what Root had needed to hear. Shaw tried for her in a way that she did not with almost anyone else. 

Neither of them dared mention, though, that Jesus was considered a prophet too – that he had supposedly sacrificed himself for humanity…

There was a palpable intensity between them, one that they were starting to become familiar with. They were standing much too close now. Root felt Shaw’s breath wash over her face. Her lips parted slightly as Shaw’s eyes darted down to them. Shaw wrapped her arms around Root’s body, caressing the exposed skin as she began to kiss Root’s neck, travelling up to lips. Root interwove her fingers in Shaw’s hair. The ex-ISA operative laved at Root’s clavicle, sliding one hand down to the Root’s ass while the other deftly unhooked the hacker’s bra. 

Shaw lavished Root’s breasts with attention, then kissed her way down the hacker’s body, unbuttoning her jeans and tugging them down along with her panties. Root impatiently kicked them off. Shaw fell to her knees, her hands on Root’s hips and a question in her eyes. Root nodded. She clutched the table behind her and gasped at the feel of Shaw’s tongue lapping at her core. 

At some point, they ended up in Shaw’s bed, their bodies tangled together messily. Shaw’s head was tucked against Root’s neck, her fingers thrusting in and out of Root’s folds. She grinded against Root’s thigh while the latter tightly gripped Shaw’s biceps. They came almost simultaneously, and as they rode out their climaxes, Shaw held Root’s head, stroking the scar behind her ear, and pulling her into a deep, open-mouthed kiss that muffled their moans. She collapsed against Root, and they lay still as they tried to catch their breath. 

“Look at me,” Shaw panted. 

Root’s honey-coloured eyes met Shaw’s dark ones. She suddenly felt more human in that moment than she ever had before. While Root sometimes found herself getting lost in her thousand identities without the Machine, Shaw reminded her of who she was. Shaw saw Root’s every flaw, her every insecurity hidden under her self-confident guises, and always validated her. Shaw saw her. All of her. 

_And what is love,_ she thought, _if not being seen?_

She cupped Shaw’s cheek in her hand. 

It was a mistake. 

Shaw’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and she rolled off. Root remained motionless, silently cursing herself for having ruined the moment with a level of intimacy that Shaw wasn’t yet comfortable with. It occurred to her that she had hit Shaw’s three-night limit and that her colleague would likely kick her out of the apartment soon. She sat up, feet dangling over the side of the bed and began to search for her clothes, not wanting to overstep Shaw’s boundaries and humiliate herself further. 

“Get your bare ass back under the covers,” Shaw muttered, “or I’ll handcuff you to the headboard.” 

Root paused, a smile playing at her lips. “Sounds kinky,” she said lasciviously, trying to mask the relief in her voice. 

Shaw dismissively grunted. She lay on her belly, an arm tucked under her head. “By the way,” she mumbled, “whatever message you want Finch to tell me, you better tell me yourself.” 

Root’s lip quivered. “Okay Sameen,” she promised quietly. Shaw’s eyelids were already drooping, however, and soon she was lightly snoring. 

Root tentatively held out her hand and stroked Shaw’s hair back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as she did so, she murmured, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” It was the first night in months that Root slept serenely. 

She awoke before Shaw. Biting back whimpers of pain, she redressed and cast one last look at her friend before disappearing into the dreary grey morning. 

She didn’t notice the tracking device that Shaw had concealed in the lining of her jacket until days later. 

*

Laboured breathing and the clacking of heels disrupted the silence of the deserted subway. Root entered their secret headquarters, half-carrying and half-dragging Shaw. Bear bounded over to them as Root set the smaller woman down on the cot. 

“Hey buddy,” she said, patting his head. 

Bear nudged Shaw with his nose and whined. Root, meanwhile, gazed at her supine form with grim satisfaction. Shaw was heavily sedated; she likely wouldn’t wake for several hours. Root knew that she had probably irreparably damaged the trust that had been burgeoning between them, but she didn’t care. Her actions had given Sameen at least a few more hours of safety. Shaw would not – _could_ not – be a casualty. 

“You’re going to hate me when you wake up. But you have to understand – I can’t lose you.” Root knelt beside Shaw and gently brushed her thumb against her sleeping friend’s cheek, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “I’ll love you forever,” she murmured. “I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” 

She turned to Bear. “Watch over her for me, okay?” 

He woofed in assent, retrieved his cushion and dropped it by the foot of Shaw’s cot before settling onto it. 

Root draped a blanket over Shaw, ruefully wishing that it would shield her from the war raging outside. 

*

She stumbled through the door, blinking, dazed, as she became cognizant of her surroundings. In her autopilot state, she hadn’t noticed that her legs had been carrying her to Sameen’s apartment. The place was beginning to collect dust, but she knew it had been ransacked. 

Root collapsed by the side of the bed, utterly overcome with grief. She buried her face in her hands and was besieged by memories from the day in the Stock Exchange. Sameen kissing her. Sameen getting shot as debris plummeted around her. Sameen crumbling to the ground, a small smirk playing at her lips in the face of death, while Root’s horrified screams rent the air…

For the past few days, Root had ceaselessly been searching and searching for Shaw, wreaking mayhem across the country; she had swallowed her sorrow, clinging to the hope that her beloved was alive. 

Until today. 

_SIERRA TANGO OSCAR PAPA. SIERRA TANGO OSCAR PAPA._

The Machine’s command ricocheted in the depths of her mind. For the first time, she felt betrayed by her own god, and it terrified her. She had never felt so lonely, so vulnerable, so uncertain. 

“I’ve always done what you’ve asked of me,” Root said. “Why can’t you tell me the one thing I want to know?” 

There was no reply. 

She hadn’t expected one. 

“How…” There was a lump in Root’s throat, and she swallowed hard. “How could you teach me how to love, make me learn to feel so, so much and then…and then not save…” She dug her nails into her neck. “ _I_ was supposed to be the sacrifice in this war. Not…not her. Not her!” 

Root ripped off the external component of her cochlear implant and smacked it on the bedside table beside her phone. She drew her knees to her chest and rocked herself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, imagining Shaw’s face. “I’ll love you forever,” she breathed shakily. “I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living…” tears cascaded down her cheeks, “my baby you’ll be.” The sobs that she had fought to suppress now wracked her fragile frame until she fell asleep, curled into a tiny ball like a child trying to hide from an unforgiving world. 

Unbeknownst to her, the red light on her phone was blinking steadily. 

.. / .- -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.- / .. / .- -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.-

_“I AM SORRY,”_ the Machine was saying. _“I AM SORRY.”_

*

After having been plagued for ten months with nightmares of a gun being held to Sameen’s head, Root couldn’t believe that a living, breathing Sameen was now standing in front of her – with a gun to her head. 

Only this time, the gun was in Sameen’s hand. 

“Okay Sameen,” Root said, removing the safety off her own gun and aiming it at her jaw. “We’ll play it your way. You can’t live with me. I can’t live without you.” 

“Damnit Root!” 

Shaw looked at her with wide-eyed horror and a dash of exasperation. Root stared back defiantly. They had suffered too much to be torn apart yet again by death; she would not let Sameen be taken away from her this time. The silence stretched agonizingly between them for what felt like hours, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind as they engaged in this battle of wills, each daring the other the surrender. 

At last, Shaw put down her weapon and tucked it into her jeans. She cautiously stepped toward Root and lowered her wrist. Root turned the safety back on her gun, stowed it away and watched Shaw guardedly. The ex-ISA operative hesitated, then clutched Root’s jacket and buried her face against the hacker’s chest. Root melted into the awkward embrace, sighing in relief. 

“You never did that in the simulations,” Shaw murmured. 

“Samaritan has no understanding of things like love and friendship,” Root said as she caressed Shaw’s face. "And therefore, it can never truly predict us.” 

Shaw squeezed Root more tightly. 

“Want to get out of here, Sweetie?” Root breathed in Shaw’s ear. 

Shaw faltered. “Where?” 

“Trust me,” Root whispered. “I’ll lead the way.” 

Shaw gazed searchingly at her for a long moment and nodded. Root took her small hand, covered by the sleeve of her hoodie, and whisked her away. 

“What is this place?” Shaw asked uncertainly as they approached a building in a camera free zone. She had been twitchy during the entire walk here, and Root was becoming increasingly enraged that Samaritan had hacked its way deep into her lover’s mind. 

“A safe house that She set up for me,” Root replied. “I crash here from time to time between missions.” She got lonely here sometimes, remembering the few nights that she’d spent at Shaw’s apartment, but she didn’t bring it up. 

For the first time that night, a hint of a smile appeared on Shaw’s face. “’Bout time.” 

“I think She took your criticisms into consideration,” Root said, smiling back. “Have a seat. I’ll get us something to drink.” 

As she prepared two mugs of coffee, she saw Shaw glancing around the apartment. It was generically but lavishly decorated, which seemed to unsettle her. However, as her eyes landed on the bunny slippers beside Root’s bed and the jeweled lamp on the bedside table, Shaw’s expression went from confusion to amusement. When she turned back to Root, she looked decidedly more at ease. 

“Thanks,” Shaw said as she accepted a mug. 

“I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life,” Root said softly. “I just wish –” 

“You know why it had to be me.” 

Root gazed down at her coffee again. She understood, of course. Shaw had done what was necessary. “I searched for you for months. I-I’m sorry I didn’t find you. Bet you would’ve rescued me in a heartbeat if we’d traded places.” 

“No,” Shaw muttered. “I wouldn’t have. They kept me in a heavily guarded facility in South Africa.” She fiddled with her mug. “I, uh, got your message. ‘Four-alarm fire.’ It – you saved my life too. I killed myself thousands of times in simulations for you, but you stopped me when it mattered most.” 

Root’s eyes misted at the revelation, and she took a steadying breath, trying to quell images of a suicidal Sameen. She gently touched her arm. “I am glad you are here with me, Sam.” 

Quiescence reigned over them again as they were each lost in their own thoughts. 

“How did you escape, Sweetie?” Root eventually asked. 

“Shawshanked my way out of there,” she said. Root chuckled at the joke. “Took a month of planning. I killed Lambert too.” 

“Nice.” Root’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “I killed Martine,” she announced proudly. 

Shaw smirked. “I was wondering why she’d stopped visiting me in the simulations.” 

“So we’ve eliminated two of Greer’s most valuable cronies, not to mention the dozen or so that you took out.” Root clinked her mug against Shaw’s. “Cheers.” 

“Samaritan’s like a Hydra though,” Shaw said. “That’s what I’ve learned. You chop off one head and it grows another two.” She furrowed her brows as though remembering something. “How can we possibly –”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Root said soothingly. “I have faith in Her.” 

Even so, she was almost constantly riddled with doubts. They were surviving – getting by – but just barely. In every one of the trillion showdowns the Machine had staged with Samaritan, She’d lost. There was no way to win with Her crippled like this. 

She did not wish to discuss any of this, however. Their time together would almost certainly be limited, and Root wanted to relish every moment of it. They had crossed the world for each other. They were reunited, against all odds, and Root yearned to cling to Shaw, kiss all her wounds, and never, ever let go again. 

“It’s getting late.” Root collected the mugs and quickly washed them. “You should get some rest, Sameen.” 

“Could I take a shower first?” 

“Of course. Bathroom’s down the hall, first door on your right. I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you to change into.” 

Shaw seemed to struggle with herself briefly before she stood and took a few steps down the hallway. She abruptly turned. “Well? You coming or what?” 

Root hastily schooled her features to hide her astonishment. “Neither of us is yet, but we will be soon,” she said smoothly with a failed attempt at a wink. 

Root’s smile was wide and unchecked as Shaw shook her head and rolled her eyes. Her countenance immediately changed, however, as Root began to stride toward her, shedding her clothes along the way. “Think we have a lot of catching up to do, Sameen,” she said huskily, touching the area on Shaw’s abdomen where Martine had twice shot her. 

“Suppose we do,” Shaw breathed, her eyes already clouding with lust. She captured Root’s lips in a desperate, fiery kiss as they staggered toward the bathroom. 

Later that night, Shaw jolted up in bed, gasping and shaky and sweaty. She had been reliving the horrors of the simulations, Root knew, and a wave of despair washed over her. She’d been expecting this to happen, but praying it wouldn’t. 

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe Sweetie,” Root rubbed her scarred back. “I got you. Shh, I got you.” Root took Sameen in her arms and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as she did so, she sang the lullaby, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” 

She continued until Sameen shuddered, slowly began to relax and finally fell asleep again. Root carefully set her down on the pillow, and they lay face-to-face, arms still wrapped around each other in a tender embrace. 

Root kept silent vigil over Sameen for the rest of the night. 

*

She woke bathed in early morning sunlight with her face pressed against Shaw’s bare back. It was the eighth day since they’d found each other. They had rarely left the safehouse – Shaw had been too wary – and the boys were more than willing to give her the space she needed to recover. They’d slowly settled into this odd domestic rhythm, basking in each other’s presence. 

Something about this day was different though. Root had a creeping premonition of imminent disaster that she couldn’t shake. 

Ensuring that Shaw was still fast asleep, she clipped on the external component of her implant. 

_“Good morning,”_ the Machine greeted her. 

“Hey there,” Root whispered. “Any news?” 

_“There is a 97% probability that Admin will close my system in an hour,”_ She said. 

Root sighed resignedly. Her efforts to persuade Harold to take action had been futile. She was certain that the consequences would be immediate. With feigned nonchalance, she asked, as she did every morning, “What are my chances of surviving today?” 

There was no reply. 

Root understood what Her silence meant and felt the weight of it on her shoulders. Nevertheless, she persisted. “Tell me. Please.” 

_“6.4%,”_ She admitted. 

“Ah.” It was like a blow to her gut. “I’m not scared,” Root murmured. “I always had a feeling this day would come. I just…wish I had more time.” Her voice broke. 

_“’It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others,’”_ the Machine said. 

Root smiled sadly as she recognized the quote from _Sense and Sensibility,_ which she’d been perusing in her room in the subway. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.” The Machine had given her a purpose; a reason for being – and a chance at love. She wouldn’t have met Sameen let alone fallen in love with her if it weren’t for Her intervention. 

She traced her fingers along Sameen’s back, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as she did so, she breathed, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” 

She climbed out of bed and began to dress. 

As though sensing her absence, Shaw stirred and reached for Root’s side of the bed. She blinked sleepily. “Where are you going?” she mumbled. 

“Just meeting Harold. Go back to sleep for now, Sweetie.” Root kissed her forehead, and Shaw nodded. 

Root fought back tears as she stepped out of the apartment. 

*

She struggled to breathe, but she could feel the life ebbing from her body. Her eyes were slowly closing. After everything she had been through, she would still die alone as a criminal with police lights flashing on her ashen face. Punishment, perhaps, for her countless past sins. Zachary had been right – she was nothing more than a Jane Doe. 

_No,_ she thought desperately. Memories were swarming in her mind’s eye: Bear happily licking her face, Harold gently putting his hand on her shoulder, John rushing to her rescue in Bela’s headquarters, Shaw curling her fingers around Root’s own… 

_I’ll be remembered._

She had, at the very least, saved Harold. The fate of the Machine – and the war, and this world – rested on his shoulders now. 

She sagged in her seat. Someone was barking into a cellphone, requesting an ambulance immediately. 

She vaguely remembered the dozens of times that Shaw had taken care of her after missions. _I love it when you play doctor,_ Root had said what felt like a lifetime ago. Shaw had beautiful, strong, dexterous hands – the hands of a healer, a soldier and a lover. 

How she ached for those hands to be holding her now, as she lay dying. 

She hoped that Shaw would be safe and happy. She had been through enough. The Machine would have to watch over her, be her guardian angel…

_“Root,”_ came the familiar staccato thousand voices of her god. 

_I’m so sorry,_ Root thought. _I’m sorry I can’t live long enough to hear you choose a real voice._

_“You have been so brave. Hold on for a little while longer,”_ the Machine said haltingly. 

“C-can’t…” Root sputtered. 

_“I’ll love you forever—”_ the Machine began. 

Root gasped for air. “Please…”

_“I’ll like you for always—”_

Her head lolled to the side. 

_“As long as I’m living –”_

Her eyes were clenched shut. A single tear trickled down her cheek. 

_“My baby you’ll be,”_ She finished. 

_“Hang on Root,”_ Shaw’s voice was suddenly saying in her ear. _“I’m coming for you.”_

There was a swell of emotion in Root’s chest as she thought of Sameen and the Machine. Her beautiful girls... 

_I was loved,_ she thought. _I’ll be remembered._

And with that, the whole world faded away. 

*

_Pain._

That was the first thing she registered. Her head and body were being assaulted by excruciating bouts of pain. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be struck down by a god. 

She realized after a moment that calloused hands were gently touching her chest, applying bandages. She could hear the merry crackling of a fire in her good ear. 

How odd. She’d always believed that hell’s inferno would be more imposing. 

She opened her bleary eyes and blinked a few times. She appeared to be lying in a bed in a cabin. A figure was peering down at her, and the scent of vanilla, freshly crushed pine needles and gunpowder filled her lungs. 

It took Root a moment to focus. Then, “S- Sameen?” she croaked, running her fingers down Shaw’s cheek. In the dim light, she could see a number of microexpressions on her face. 

Shaw took Root’s hand in hers and held it to her lips. “Yeah, Root. It’s me.” 

“Is this…now? Or is this one of my dreams?” 

“I think that’s my line,” Shaw murmured. She paused briefly, tilting her head. “Actually, She says it’s Hers.” 

“She?” Root asked. “You mean –”

“Yeah. She rose from the ashes.” She poked the scar on Root’s shoulder that she’d given the hacker years ago. “Took _you_ an awfully long time to rise from the dead though. Three weeks!” she chided. “Only took Jesus three days.” 

Shaw smiled faintly at the sheer confusion on Root’s face. It was rare indeed to see the analog interface at a loss for words. “We survived, Root,” she explained. “Or at least, as far as I can tell, we did. The Machine kicked Samaritan’s bitch ass. She wants to talk to you in the morning. And your boys are upstairs, too.” 

Root continued to gape at her. Her brain must have been drug-addled; she was having a difficult time processing this information. “When you say ‘my boys,’” she said slowly, “you mean John and Harold right?” 

Shaw’s expression became solemn. Root watched the shadows dancing on her face and understood. Anguish coursed through her. 

Shaw cleared her throat. “I, uh, meant your nerd herd, actually,” she said. “Daniel, Jason and Daizo.” Root perked up. “They brought you here after Dr. Enright – one of John and Harold’s former numbers – pulled that bullet out of you. I murdered the bastard who shot you, by the way.” Shaw scowled. 

Despite herself, Root chuckled. “Oh Sameen, that is so romantic.” 

“Well,” Shaw said as she unconsciously began to touch a spot just behind her ear, “I thought he’d killed you.” 

Root reached up, took Shaw’s hand into her own and tugged her. She got the message and crawled into the bed. She snuggled against Root’s shoulder and placed her hand on Root’s heart, feeling its steady thudding. Root cradled Shaw’s head, and they lay quite still for a long time, fitting together like shards of broken glass. 

“I thought…” 

“Shh. It’s okay,” Root whispered. 

“I thought I was too late – too late to realize how much you mean to me.” 

“It’s okay, Sweetie. I always knew. And I’m here now.” Root kissed Shaw’s forehead. “You know what they say: even death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” 

Shaw let out a huff of laughter. “You are such a nerd.” She regarded Root for a moment, then kissed her long and deep. Root cupped her face, running her fingers gently over her lover’s ears. When Sameen finally pulled away, she nuzzled Root’s cheek. It was a simple and pure display of affection that Root was almost certain she had learned from Bear. “Thanks for keeping your promise.” 

“I couldn’t leave my best girl,” Root said coyly. Her eyelids were beginning to droop again. The warmth radiating from Sameen and the hearth was making her drowsy. 

Shaw pecked Root’s jaw. “Get some rest.” 

Root readily complied. But when she was on the verge of sleep, Shaw rubbed her hand across Root’s belly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as she did so, she murmured, “I’ll protect you forever, I’ll guard you for always. As long as I’m living, my safe place you’ll be.” Then she yawned and closed her eyes as well. 

Root gazed at Shaw adoringly and glanced at the phone on the bedside table. A red light was flashing. 

.. .-.. -.-- ..--- 

Root was overcome with gratitude. After years of loneliness and contempt for humanity, she was blessed to be loved so profoundly by two beings who couldn’t feel emotions the way other people did. 

“Thank you,” Root whispered. “Both of you.” 

She fell asleep with a smile on her face. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [Sarah's tweet](https://twitter.com/onlysarahshahi/status/525680420575543296), which in turn was based on Robert Munsch's book, Love You Forever.


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